


When Biology plays Matchmaker

by yuletide84



Series: When Biology Plays Matchmaker AU [1]
Category: TwoSetViolin (YouTube RPF), Twosetviolin
Genre: Alpha Eddy Chen, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Badly written accounts of depression (sorry I myself get triggered while writing), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eddy Chen doing illegal things to get by, Forced Pregnancy, Friends just raising a kid together I guess, Fuck Or Die, Heat Suppression, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, No Beta We Die Like Tchaikovsky, Omega Brett Yang, Platonic Life Partners, Suicide Attempt, badly written fanfiction, based on how my parents act around each other, could be fluff, just like my parents, naming puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28166934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide84/pseuds/yuletide84
Summary: Brett Yang—born an omega, raised as a beta, trained like an alpha—has been on suppressants the day he presented. As an effect of long term use of suppressants, his survival depends on whether he chooses to let his biology dictate his fate or not. He also happens to be best friends with an alpha but they refuse to mate with each other (and the feeling is mutual.)
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: When Biology Plays Matchmaker AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064948
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twosetmeridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosetmeridian/gifts).



> This was written in late 2019 and early 2020 (aka before Corona happened)
> 
> So don’t expect references to that in the first 8-10 chapters.

Mr and Mrs Yang were very delighted when they knew they were expecting a child way back in 1991. The couple was even more delighted when they knew their first child would be a boy. As per Chinese tradition, it was considered a good thing to have a male firstborn. So, they rejoiced and prepared for the arrival of their child.

However, things took a slightly wrong turn when Mrs Yang noticed that her baby bump stayed unnoticeable under huge clothing even at twenty-eight weeks, where most expecting mothers are heavily gravid and bulging really visibly. So when she took this concern to her obstetrician, she got overwhelmed and wept in despair when her doctor just reassured her that the baby is perfectly fine and healthy for an _omega._

Now, to provide an overview as to why Mama Yang was distraught at the mention of an omega baby, here’s an explanation: in their culture, having omega boys were considered to be a punishment from the heavens due to the notion that men should be strong, powerful, and independent, whereas, omegas are biologically weaker, submissive, and dependent—an exact opposite of the ideal man. So, when Mama Yang knew she was having an omega boy, she had to recall all the wrongdoings her husband and she has done over the years. Other than having a few fights, she found none, much to her dismay.

Downcast, she made her way home and cried until her husband and alpha came home to comfort her. They eventually forgot about the news and focused on choosing names and buying things for their baby boy.

Brett Yang decided to surprise his parents by his arrival on a peaceful afternoon on March 3rd, 1992. Mama Yang was relaxing in her nest of blankets and used clothes and occasionally standing up to stretch away the back pains she was having from staying in one position for so long. Papa Yang was working that day since they were told that Baby Yang will not be out for another two weeks. So, when Mama Yang decided to go to the bathroom and felt her water break as she peed, she panicked. She was alone in their house. Her husband wouldn’t be home for the next eight hours and _she can’t bloody drive_ . She called her husband’s workplace to have a ‘ _word with him_ ’ and the person who received the call had initially thought they were having a row over the company’s telephone and _ended the call._ She called again but as the _same person_ heard her voice, the call ended again. She called three more times and when her voice suddenly went two octaves higher, screaming ‘ _I’m about to give birth!_ ’ did the person finally pass the call to her husband who had been told ‘ _some screaming woman_ ’ kept calling and was looking for him. It took Papa Yang three seconds into the call to understand what was going on.

He then quite literally fled his office without prior notice to aid his omega wife. Six hours later, Brett Yang entered the world with a sweet milky scent flooding all over the delivery room that reminded everyone else who he is: _an omega._


	2. The Uncertain Becomes Certain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why parents need to listen to their doctors. What’s with Asian parents wanting their children to become doctors but refuse to listen to doctor’s opinions?

Brett Yang was a very hyperactive and independent baby. He wasn’t like any omega child who cries to be held all the time or the ones that are so shy and meek. _No. Nope. Nah-nah-nah-nah-nopity-nope-nope-nope._ Brett was none of that. In fact, he was probably the most playful, smiley, giggly, and loud baby parents could ever have. He seemed like something was constantly making him laugh. He also moved quite a lot and worried his poor mother when she found a three-month old Brett on the floor when she could very vividly remember she put her on the bed…which was half a meter tall. Turns out, this genius of a kid pushed the pillows off the bed, fell onto it, and rolled his way to the floor. Luckily, his small body was not injured but his mother surely had a minor heart attack. 

He was quite a fast learner as well and went through developmental stages earlier than an average child. If at three months, he managed to roll his way to the floor, he already managed to crawl out of the slightly open door at five months—which gave his mother a mini heart attack when she could not find her baby on the bed when she came back from the bathroom and instead found him on the living room playing with a toy whistle.

All of these events led his parents to assume that the initial diagnosis of Brett being an omega was a mistake and he’s actually just a very small alpha born with a very sweet milky smell like his omega mother. So, his parents raised him to be like an alpha.

As soon as he turned three, his parents signed him up for private piano lessons, just like every Asian alpha. However, Brett found it quite boring and tiring. He just wanted to play with his toys and watch cartoons and not sit atop five thick books on the piano stool looking at lifeless black and white keys and listening to this stranger talk about how to put his very tiny hands on the keys properly. He was having none of that, so he threw the largest tantrum and threw all his toys—thankfully, the soft plush ones—at the stranger and the piano one day, thinking it will stop the torture.

It did not. In fact, it made the situation worse. His parents confiscated his toys, restricted his cartoon watching time, and worse, his alpha father berated him for his manners using the _alpha voice_. Little Brett whimpered at the voice and cried himself to sleep. The next day, he obliged and sat patiently through his piano lessons, scared to be yelled at again. 

He kept his good behaviour on for a year and this is what his precious father decided to buy him for his fourth birthday for his _good conduct_ : a 1/4 size violin. Confused, Brett almost broke the violin, thinking it was a toy anyone can just bang against the floor, until his mother took the violin away and distracted him with a cupcake. 

It wasn’t until Brett was four and a half years old that he finally got to play his gift. Mama and Papa Yang took a while to look for a violin teacher in their area. And when they found the perfect teacher, Brett was having side to side lessons on the piano and the violin that Brett was not given enough time to play with his toys and watch cartoons. Discontented with his new schedule, he thought he could sacrifice his sleep for play time and played with his toys when his parents thought he was asleep.

However, that took a toll on his energy and he fell asleep during his lessons most of the time. His teachers noticed Brett’s drowsiness during their lessons and told his parents about it. So, to make more time for Little Brett to have his nap time, his parents let him stop violin classes instead.

That did not stop his parents from pushing him to retake violin classes when he turned five, though.

Years went by and the Yangs raised Brett to become his perfect alpha to compensate with his small stature. Apparently, they were too busy trying to raise him to become an alpha that they missed the signs that showed them what his secondary gender really is.

 _Getting lured by alpha pheromones._ Brett loved visiting his parents’ room when he felt upset or when his teachers got too rough with him. There was something about the woody smell of his parents’ room that soothes him. Like a belly rub after a stomach ache. He also often finds himself befriending or talking to certain people that smell good but everyone brushed it off as his gregarious nature. 

_Prone to illnesses at an early age._ Brett has worn glasses at a very young age of six and a half due to his addiction to cartoons and watching for over three hours straight. His parents ended up limiting his watch time by keeping him busy with longer piano and violin lessons and private math tutorials. Normally, an average alpha can merely survive the hectic schedule but Brett did very poorly. He had fevers and colds often and skipped classes to sleep in the infirmary. He eventually learned to suck it all up and still go to classes despite the headaches he had been getting when his father chastised him for a B+ grade in maths.

 _Abnormal addiction to sweets_. Brett has always had a sweet tooth. His mother would always find candy wrappers tucked in the deepest corners of his pockets while she does the laundry and it had even caused her washing machine to go down because one of the wrappers got stuck in the engines of the machine and it had to be fixed—and that included a huge sum of money and a huge whooping on a little boy’s ass. Brett had eventually learned to throw his candy wrappers before putting his used clothes in the laundry basket. However, that did not stop him from eating an absurd amount of sweets as a child.

 _Nest-making._ Mama Yang has always had a problem with Brett’s room. His room was always a mess with blankets and pillows propped wherever he stayed last—may it be near the piano, near the music stand, on the bed where it should be, or near the desk. To Brett, it was absolute heaven. He could just lay down wherever he wants if he gets tired of doing whatever he was doing and have a snooze. It was very convenient but his mother never seemed to understand why he preferred having a messy room over a neat one. It was only when he turned ten that he realised that sleeping on the bed was infinitely better than sleeping anywhere. That didn’t mean he liked fixing his bed, though.

 _Maternal instinct._ Brett was eventually followed by a younger brother, Brent, an alpha, when he turned five and his younger brother was definitely bigger than Brett was when he was born. Nonetheless, Brett positively adored his little brother and hovered over the baby during the first three months. He would watch cartoons with his younger brother, he would try to play the piano for his younger brother, and even learned to hum lullabies to help his brother sleep. When both were in primary school, he was constantly on look-out for his younger brother, much to Brent’s embarrassment. Brett also had to verbally attack anyone who tried to bully his younger brother and probably why he eventually got very good at roasting people. However, that did not mean that Brent never got Brett’s bad side. Brett was the typical older brother who sides with his parents whenever he gets chastised for anything. In fact, Brent would get twice the sermon: one from his parents and another one from Brett.

All those were hints that might have prepared Mr and Mrs Yang once Brett gets his first heat but they all chose to ignore them. So, when they found Brett curling in his bed in pain and agony, reeking of freshly squeezed goat’s milk and honey, they froze in place instead of helping their suffering son.

“Mum, please help me,” was all that Brett could utter before his parents left the room and shut the door. His parents could only look at each other in panic.

Brett’s first heat painfully ended after a week. He had to be locked in his room and only his mother could enter the room to deliver food and water. His mother was also kind enough to leave him with a newly bought vibrator which was clearly shopped online. Immediately after his first heat, his parents took him to a fertility clinic to have him checked and given a Certificate of Presentation and some hormonal suppressants.

Brett Yang was officially an omega on the 23rd March 2004.


	3. Meeting the Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brett may be an excellent violinist and pianist that did not stop his father from enrolling him in Kumon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major OOC. Let’s just say that Brett’s feeling Trans!Beta or Trans!Alpha and he is offended that he is referred to as anything but a Beta/Alpha.

Although he presented as an omega over two years ago, that did not stop his parents from pushing all of the academic and extracurricular activities that most alphas do—that includes Piano and Violin Lessons, Swimming Class and the Youth Orchestra. Brett, being raised to think like an alpha, didn’t mind the extra work. In fact, he learned to like the feeling of being given so much responsibility. When he was told by the fertility doctor that he was an omega after he had a confusing week of being horny all the time, he got scared that he might be treated differently and that he would be belittled for his secondary gender. Thankfully, his mother had been too kind to tell him that nothing would change just because he was an omega. His alpha father even told him that if he wanted to go far in life, he should learn not to restrict himself with what omegas do and start doing what the other genders do too. 

So, he worked really hard and demanded that he gets treated like an alpha at school. He even became the orchestra and band captain of their school, a position that only alphas and betas ever filled in since the beginning of time. He joined numerous competitions and even won in some (read: _most_ ) of them. His shelf eventually got filled with awards and trophies and he was so goddamn proud of that. So proud that even his parents caught wind of his pride that they are also proud of him.

Although Brett was very stellar in music, his parents were also despairing at how bad he was at Maths. After consistently getting an atrocious Maths grade of 89% for two semesters in a row, his parents decided he needed to take tutorial classes for very obvious reasons (read: failing the Asian standards.) Brett bargained not to be in a tutorial class. He barely had time for himself (and Smash Bros) and he wouldn’t want to have more time taken from him. However, as soon as his parents mentioned confiscating his console for _not doing well at school,_ he immediately withdrew his plea and agreed to their ‘ _fabulous idea_.’

After the lovely discussion he had with his parents, Brett inserted a biweekly Maths tutorial to his already busy schedule of piano lessons, violin lessons, musical theory classes, swimming classes, orchestra practice, actual school, youth orchestra rehearsals, and plotting fratricide against his dearest brother who betrayed him for telling their parents where he hid all his games and controllers.

A year into the tutorials, Brett managed to pull his grade from his mediocre 89% to an average grade of 92%--which wasn’t much but it was enough to let him play Smash Bros once in a while without having his mother breathe down his neck for not practicing. Still, it didn’t mean that his other extracurricular activities were put on hold. His swimming classes were getting more rigorous, his violin teacher had been making him play the harder pieces for an upcoming competition, the school ensemble had been so frustratingly hard to organise due to the amount of schoolwork everyone has been getting, and his pills are making him more irritable than ever.

Bottomline is Brett is extremely exhausted and he would do anything for a breather. But God had different ideas.

Brett was busy trying to understand the chicken scratch he likes to call his notes from the previous week when a transferee from Taiwan entered his maths tutorial class. The boy was tall, a bit too lanky, and the very first thing that Brett noticed was the alluring scent of oranges and wood that surrounded the boy. The boy was younger than him and he was put in Maths tutoring for his placement examination, according to their teacher, who has been busy explaining to the transferee what lessons they were on and the schedule of the tutorials. After getting the overall gist of whatever the teacher was telling him, he curtly nodded and proceeded to the closest available seat…which was next to Brett.

Brett, being the friendly guy that he is, turned to the shy boy sitting next to him and started with a simple, “Hi!”

The boy nodded and returned his greeting, turning his attention back to the teacher who has been explaining the geometric sequence formula to the class. Brett didn’t quite like to be dismissed so easily, so he persisted.

“Hi, again, my name’s Brett. What’s yours?” he asked with a sing-song voice while holding out his hand.

“Edward. You can call me Eddy,” the boy, Eddy, replied and took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. 

“You can speak good English for someone who’s from Taiwan,” Brett commented, trying to copy the things written on the board in his notebook. “I lived there for five years but we moved back here four years ago so I can actually speak Chinese if you’re more comfortable with that.”

Eddy hummed quietly as he unpacked his notebook from his bag, not bothering to respond to the comment. Brett looked at Eddy and expected him to say something. When nothing came, he sighed in annoyance, frustrated that he could not befriend the new guy. _Tch, what a fuddy-duddy. It’s not like we don’t hear this at school anyway._ In his utmost horror, Brett accidentally let out a wave of distressed pheromones from the sheer exasperation. Thankfully, Brett noticed before he could suffocate everyone in the room with his pheromones and adjusted his breathing to stop making distress signals to everyone.

However, that didn’t mean nobody caught a whiff of it because Eddy, who was sitting next to him, sniffed everything and crunched his face in confusion.

“Do you smell goat milk?” Eddy asked him, curious as to where the oddly specific scent was coming from. _Aiyah, of all things, why must that fuddy-duddy catch on to that??_ Brett steeled beside him and focused on writing equations on his notebook, not wanting to let anybody know about his petty reaction, most especially his new seatmate. He shook his head slightly and feigned ignorance, his breath hitching up every now and then. Brett had to readjust his already well-positioned spectacles thrice in a subtle attempt to diffuse the smell. Eddy sniffed around again, trying to check if it was just his head messing with him. 

“Nah, that’s impossible. It’s so strong. How can you not—,” Eddy paused and inched closer to Brett, smelling the air between them. As soon as he smelt the milky scent, Eddy immediately pulled away like he was electrified by the air. “It’s you!”

Brett hushed him quite angrily and pointed back at the board, trying to divert Eddy’s attention away from the situation. Unfortunately, Eddy is hard to shake off and he’s quite an intelligent guy as well. So, when Eddy figured out Brett’s secondary gender and muttered the _O-word_ , Brett couldn’t help slapping his palm on Eddy's mouth and subsequently grabbing the attention of their teacher.

“Brett, do you have a problem with Edward?” their teacher raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Brett merely shook his head and removed his hand from Eddy’s face, showcasing his braces in a forced grin. When the teacher shifted her gaze to Eddy, the boy also shook his head and apologised for the commotion. 

Only when the teacher’s back was facing them did Brett slide a messily written note to Eddy that said: _Let’s agree that you didn’t know that I’m an omega. I’ll do your Kumon homework for a week for your silence...and maybe a month, if you treat me like a beta too. I may be an omega but_ _I deserve to be in this class like everyone else, thank you very much. :P_

Eddy, the fuddy-duddy, glared at the note before scoffing and read the content. After a few beats, he turned the note upside down and wrote down a reply: _I didn’t say you don’t deserve to be here. I’m just amazed an omega is in a class full of alphas. And, none of this would happen if you weren’t sending off pheromones to everybody you meet._

Brett huffed and sent out another note: _Excuse me??? I don’t do that! And that was not meant for anybody to smell so don’t feel so entitled to think that was meant for you!!_

After that, Eddy did not bother to spare as much as a single glance toward the bespectacled omega. Brett took this as a positive thing. The new guy wasn’t friendly and Brett doesn’t want to impose himself on someone as uncooperative as Eddy.

So when the tutorial was over, Brett immediately went home to practice on the piece he was performing with the Youth Orchestra in Brisbane to de-stress himself from his very irritating encounter during the tutorial. Ironically, the violin used to be the bane of his existence back when he was very, very young but it had grown to become one of his best stress relievers—which was why when school work got harder and he was forced to choose between piano and violin, he chose violin. And boy did he make it a good indicator of his mood. A happy Brett? Tchaikovsky, Mozart, and Bach on loop! A sad Brett? Mahler and Rachmaninoff. Angry Brett? Shostakovich and Brahms. But a very frustratingly confused Brett? A perfectly played Ysaÿe Ballade on loop.

Which was why when Mama Yang heard the same piece being played over and over again, she knew her eldest son needed a breather and decided to bring him out of his cave to the nearest café. There, she tried to pry information from her unusually quiet son. It took Brett six slices of cheesecake and two servings of bubble tea before he admitted to his mother that a Taiwanese newcomer got on his nerves.

Oddly enough, even if she perfectly heard her son say that ‘a transferee pissed me off,’ she somehow got the impression that her son actually meant ‘ _I like the new kid but he’s not liking me back’_ by the way he emitted an odd combination of pheromones. 

As a pretty young mother, she had no idea how to proceed with that sort of thing as she and her siblings were quite the secretive bunch who rarely opened up to their parents. Furthermore, she was trained how to control the pheromone emissions at a fairly young age. Seeing her son do the complete opposite of what she was taught and emitting a bunch of pheromones that would put a loud warning siren to shame embarrassed her to the point of being slightly appalled by his manners—or the lack, thereof. Brett was still sulking over the ‘rude Taiwanese guy’ while begrudgingly sipping on his bubble tea when his mother noticed that other people were starting to smell his distress. 

Thinking she needed to help her son manage his pheromones somehow, she decided she’d follow her guts and advised her son to just ‘ _be kind to the new kid and they’ll surely like you back’_ —which promptly gave her a bubble tea facial and a choking son as a response. 

“ _YANG BO YAO!!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheep 羊 and Goat 山羊 is basically written the same way in Chinese except that Goat is written as mountain sheep, so I decided to be creative with Brett is 🐑 agenda, I used Goat’s milk as his omegan scent cuz I think that scent better fits omegas better than grass.
> 
> Kumon is a maths, reading, and languages tutoring class. You can look that up in Google. For Oriental people, most rich Asian kids get sent to Kumon to get a headstart or an advantage in maths and reading compared to their peers that aren’t enrolled to Kumon/any tutorial/remedial classes. Multiple ages can share classes especially when the young ones advance to the next level quickly or if there’s an older student who started late.
> 
> On the trans!beta Brett note:  
> I may have had derived this from my own experience. I’m a gender-fluid person but I don’t mind being misgendered most of the time. In fact, I don’t mind whatever pronoun is used for me. However, I really detest people saying I’m a ‘dalaga’ (‘young maiden’ in our native language) and weirdly enough, it’s just that term that pisses me off right away. I have had times where I thought I was trans but I quickly learned I still like to dress up like a lady. I get very delighted by the times people call me ‘sir’ but I also don’t mind being called ‘ma’am’. In fact I used my pet peeve of being called a ‘dalaga’ as a basis for Brett’s ire of being called an omega.
> 
> I know each experience vary from person to person and I don’t intend to invalidate others by writing Brett’s characterization as such. However, I had the full intention to open up that there might be people who may feel the same as I do and that being like this is okay and valid. Gender and sexuality is a gradient of things and I believe everyone should start thinking of it that way.


	4. It All Started With Pheromones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends that scent each other, stay together—I mean, two friends discover a perfect way to cue each other without looking at each other...and become friends.
> 
> Also, always seek a specialist for your son with special needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by female ferrets, which die when they do not get pregnant during their heat due to toxic hormone levels in their bodies that can cause severe anemia...and death.

After being shamefully dragged into the car by his fuming mother by his ear and chastised for being crass, Brett wallowed in his car seat. Unknown to him, his mother can smell his frustration very clearly. Just like in the café, Brett was producing very clear signals of distress which was very unusual of her son. Suddenly, an idea passed her mind.

“ _Yao-er_ _,_ ” Mama Yang crooned at him as they got to a red light. “Have you been taking your suppressants?”

“Of course, I am. It’s been part of my routine every morning, mum,” he answered, still rubbing his throbbing ear.

“I have noticed you’ve been releasing excessive pheromones, dear,” Mama Yang pointed out while tapping her finger on the driver’s wheel, hoping she would catch her son lying to her. “Look, the pills are for your own good. I don’t want you to have a heat outside the comforts of our home. I just want to keep you safe.”

Brett knew that. Brett will always know that. Brett agreed to the whole stay-on-the-pill thing because Brett also didn’t want to have heats at all. Despite the bouts of nausea and intense migraines he endured when he took it for the first couple of months, he fully understood the importance of the bloody pill. And he took the bloody pill _very religiously_ . If the hormonal tic-tacs were the Holy Communion, Brett would be holy enough to become a saint—nay, an _angel!_ So when his mother accused him of _missing a dose_ like he had committed sacrilege, he felt _obliged_ to express his ire towards his mother because he just _couldn’t sit still and let someone accuse him of being irresponsible._ Something inside him felt so hot with rage that he let go of his filial piety and give his mother a piece of his mind.

“Excuse me?!” he exclaimed, tad bit louder than he had expected. His mother kept a stoic face, seemingly unaffected by his outrage. “Are you saying I missed a dose, mum? I take the suppressants very seriously! I don’t want to be stuck in a hormonal state of horniness for a week ever again and I know those things are the only thing that could stop me from ever experiencing that. So, no, I didn’t miss a single dose and I don’t think I will ever be missing a dose in my life. Don’t take me for a dumb omega, _mum_ , because I will never be one and I will fight tooth and eye to never succumb to my secondary gender! I am more than that. I refuse to become a _broodmare!_ ”

Mama Yang kept quiet as he ended his tirade, feeling slightly hurt at her son’s implication that she, an omega, has become a broodmare. Brett sank further into his chair when his anger finally cooled down and was perplexed at his hysterical outburst. In an attempt to seem unaffected by his actions, Brett stuffed his shivering hands to his pocket where he immediately crossed his fingers—hoping that his mother would give him a light punishment for talking back to her. By the time they were merely five blocks away from their house, he was already half-expecting to be disowned and forgiven at the same time while fervently praying for the latter to happen instead.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Brett, his mother stayed quiet which drove his anxiety to skyrocket for every block they passed. He even found himself looking out for benches he could sleep on in every block. However, Mama Yang just silently drove themselves home and let her very hormonal son run to his room and sulk alone without speaking with him. As soon as she entered her shared room with her husband, Papa Yang immediately sensed the distress off her and enveloped her in a comforting hug.

Perhaps if they raised Brett to learn to accept his secondary gender early on, things would have been slightly better.

The next day, Mama Yang noticed that Brett hadn't come down for breakfast on his usual time. Despite having a row with her son the night prior, she braved her way to her son’s room and knocked. When she heard no response, she opened the door to find Brett cocooned in his blanket with large beads of sweat scattered on his forehead. 

Brett was shivering underneath the blanket; his lips were deathly pale and his eyes were clenched shut. Once his mother saw him in his state, he started convulsing into a seizure. 

A quick phone call for an ambulance and two hours later, Brett was finally stabilised after suffering through over ten seizures and a vomiting accident. Brett was still unconscious but he wasn’t shivering nor was he convulsing anymore. He simply looked peaceful, like he’s just sleeping. Only then was Mrs Yang finally able to breathe properly and her hands stopped shaking. A fairly young woman donning a lab coat approached the mother-son duo with a clipboard with Brett’s bed number and a forced smile that says she’s had enough of the case that plagued Brett.

“Hello, Mrs Yang,” greeted the woman with a lilting voice. “I’m Dr. Sarah Tran, an attending gynaecologist and obstetrician for male omegas in this hospital.”

Mrs Yang whipped her head to glare at Brett incredulously. When the young doctor noticed the blatant look of surprise on Mama Yang’s face, she immediately shook her hand in her attempt to defuse the misunderstanding.

“Uhhh...look, his case was forwarded to me because his case is more of a reproductive health case rather than a neuro case. It’s a bit of both, actually, but what’s causing it is more of an OB case than neuro, if you get what I mean,” explained the doctor, hoping it would ease the situation. When a gasp escaped Mama Yang’s lips, she knew she just made it worse.

“Ah, but don’t worry! He’s not pregnant or anything like that. His hCG levels are very low, which means that he’s not expecting. We also checked his CT scan and there’s no sign of stroke. However, his seizures may have been caused by what I’d like to call hormonal poisoning,” the young doctor clarified. She showed Mrs Yang the results of his blood tests, majority of which had highlighted numbers and inked in red. 

“As you can see, his omegan oestrogen and progesterone levels are very elevated, causing a disruption in his hypothalamus and causing intense fatigue-like signals to every part of the brain which then triggered seizures,” Dr Tran explained, showing Brett’s CT scan as a visual aid and ignoring the bewildered look on Mrs Yang’s face. “What’s causing the elevated hormone levels is usually the overuse of suppressants and this is where I come in.

“Ideally, regular female omegas have a regular heat cycle of roughly twenty to thirty days, making them have roughly eleven to twelve heats per year. Male omegas typically have longer heat cycles of eighty to ninety days, making them have roughly four heats per year,” Dr Tran expounded. “Female omegas are less susceptible to hormonal poisoning because you menstruate and menstruation naturally regulates the hormones in the body which means long term suppression does not affect female omegas as much as it does on male omegas.”

“So, what are you trying to say? That my son is doomed to be poisoned?” Mama Yang asked almost hysterically. Her heart leapt back to its spot next to her throat just as it did when she found Brett in his room having a seizure.

“No, if your son undergoes a single heat per year, he can exhaust enough hormones to avoid seizures. How long has it been since his last heat?”

Mama Yang suddenly went abashed. Dr Tran pursed her lips and nodded before checking her clipboard for clues. Upon seeing Brett’s presentation date, she hummed quietly.

“Ah…so, almost three years ago. No wonder he’s been convulsing like crazy. I suspect his current suppressants are the ones more ideal for female omegas as those types inhibit the hormones from reaching its designed receptors, which means that heats will not triggered, however, it will keep on accumulating in his bloodstream unless extracted by means of menstruation,” Dr Tran mused. Mrs Yang looked up at Dr Tran, appreciating the lack of judgment in her eyes. 

“I can prescribe him a new one, specially designed for male omegas, which allows them to expel the extra hormones, but can trigger uterine bleeding—pretty much like menstruation, but with less blood. However, although it can extract just about 90% of the hormones released per cycle, 10% of the produced hormones can still stay in his system and accumulate. He can either have a bloodletting or allow himself to have at least one heat every…mm, say…two years.

“There are obvious effects in long term suppression which include ovarian cancer and infertility, so if your son is still looking forward to carry children in the future, I suggest he stops taking suppressants after he finishes school and just allow his natural cycle to occur,” Dr Tran gives Mrs Yang a knowing look as if she’s acknowledging the fact that whatever she just said will fall on deaf ears. “He can always opt for birth control pills which does not stop his heat cycle but prevents pregnancy to occur. Implants can also be placed if he prefers that to pills. I recommend that I see him regularly to check on his reproductive health or at least, I’d like to have a word with his fertility doctor to ensure this doesn’t repeat again.”

Mrs Yang pursed her lips and turned to her son who was peacefully sleeping on the gurney. She looked at him wistfully before facing the young doctor.

“I’ll have to discuss that with my son first before I decide. Thank you very much,” Mrs Yang carefully replied. The young doctor smiled and nodded as she left them for her rounds.

The discussion never happened. After being in and out of consciousness for two weeks, Brett was discharged and was given the new prescription. Dr Tran, being the insightful young doctor that she was, dutifully informed Brett of the suppressant’s abilities, side-effects, and dosage. She also expressly warned Brett to follow her recommendation of allowing at least one heat a year by not taking the suppressants for at least one month.

After the very long visit to the hospital, Brett was discharged on a Saturday and back to his routine except that he missed the first orchestral rehearsal he has for the new summer programme, about six sessions of swim classes, ten sessions of piano and violin lessons, four sessions of Maths tutoring, and a ton of schoolwork. 

Provided it was a weekend, his mother only took him home to bathe and get his violin before he was sent to the rehearsals. When he got there, he was already over fifteen minutes late. Brett could see the conductor was busy reprimanding a section when he and his mother arrived in the hall. He was already mentally preparing to face the wrath of the conductor, however, his mother— _may God bless her_ —had interrupted the man and personally talked to the conductor and explained that he was recently discharged from the hospital and all the flowery words that made the conductor consider his tardiness. He was directed to a pair of vacant seats by the third desk before the conductor resumed explaining musicality to the violists.

He tried to look around him to get some ideas as to what the fuss was about and tried to read the situation when suddenly the doors opened, cutting the conductor’s lecture once again. When the whole orchestra turned to the door, Brett saw the same newcomer at Maths tutoring panting like he just ran a 5K marathon and leaning against the door for his dear life.

“You’re late! Did you just get discharged from the hospital too? Why are you late?!” the conductor chastised the young man by the door. 

“I’m sorry, I slept in, sir. Will not happen again, sir,” the teenager apologised as he entered the hall and into his seat—which, coincidentally, was next to Brett. When their eyes met, the teen’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Hey! I know you. You’re the ome—“

“Shhh! Just sit down,” Brett angrily shushed and dragged the tall teen down to the seat beside him. 

The conductor glared at the two teens. Both Brett and the tall teen bowed their heads in shame. “Now, before I get rudely interrupted again, I would like to announce that starting next week, if you come in even a minute late, I will kick you out of the orchestra, do you all understand?”

When everyone has collectively answered an affirmative yet very subdued ‘ _yes, sir_ ’, the conductor turned to the violists _again_ to restart his litany of reprimands.

So far, Brett managed to catch up with what he missed out on the first rehearsal with the help of his seatmate’s _not-so-subtle_ cues. Whenever he starts to bow differently or miss a small yet important part of the sheet music, Brett would notice an intense burst of orange scent surrounding him as if to remind him to check his bowing or the notations on the sheet music, which Eddy has scribbled beforehand. 

They eventually made it to the rehearsal break without problems and Brett felt indebted to his seatmate for his assistance. Gingerly, he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks for cueing me earlier,” Brett said, giving him a sincere smile. “And err…sorry I had to pull you down quickly. He has a thing for tardy people. It’s like his pet peeve or something so it’s best to just shut up and stay quiet. I hope you understand.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Thank you for saving my ass,” the lanky teen said. “And I hope you didn’t mind the…scenting thing.” The teen flushed and looked at his feet. “I tried kicking your foot because the conductor’s looking at us suspiciously already but you were busy sight reading. I thought maybe I’d return the favour.”

“Oh shut up! I already said that was an accident. I apparently had a hormonal poisoning which was why I was sent to the hospital. Just got discharged, actually,” Brett snarled and gave the teen a light punch. “Ah, I’m grateful I’m finally out of that damn gurney that reeks of alcohol and bleach. It’s worse than the chlorine smell that gets stuck in my nose after swim lessons. Ugh.”

The teen laughed at Brett’s lament. “Dude, you have to get used to that smell. We’re bound to become doctors, aren’t we?”

“Oh shit, yeah. Ah, fuck. Nah, mate, I’m not going to be a doctor. I’ll change careers. I’ll just be a lawyer,” Brett mused. The teen beside him sighed.

“Man, I wish I had the choice. Mum literally enrolled me into Maths tutoring so I could get into Med School. She really wanted me to be a doctor now that my sister enrolled herself in a conservatory,” the teen groaned.

“That sucks.”

Nothing but the distant chatters from the nearby musicians surrounded them. 

Brett was the first to break the fickle silence between them. “You know, it’s nice seeing someone my age here. It used to be just me being the runt of the orchestra and it feels good to talk to someone without mentioning who’s banging who. And I didn’t mean to forget but what’s your name again?”

The teen giggled. “You can call me Eddy. Well, I can imagine the struggle of being the youngest in a group, man. That’s literally my life with my sister when her friends are around. I just lock myself in my room and play Smash Bros to avoid getting paired with her friend’s younger sisters.”

“Dude, you play Smash Bros too? Wanna play at my place after rehearsals? I don’t live far.”

“Sure, lemme tell my mum to pick me up at your place.”

“By the way, I think you were kicking my violin case earlier.”

”Ohh...my bad.”

”I don’t mind the scenting thing. Actually, it’s a good idea for cueing. Maybe we should use that if we play duets in the future?”

”Mm...yeah, let’s do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I gifted this to Merri to help her reach her goal for 2020.
> 
> Don’t expect this to be updated regularly.


End file.
